The Harry Potter I used to know
by Charlie-Guevara
Summary: Harry has been missing for five years when suddenly, he is sighted walking around Diagon Alley as if nothing had happened. When found by his friends, they make a discovery that shake their lives to the core. He has been tortured, losing all of his memories. On the brink of madness, forgotten how to do magic, there are few people who can bring him back. M for sex. Harry/Ginnyfic PDH
1. Chapter 1

The Harry Potter I Knew

Chapter 1

It had been half a decade since Harry Potter had last been sighted, around 1800 days since he'd mysteriously disappeared a couple of days after the final battle. Most people had expected that he'd never return to the wizarding world. Some people thought that it was because he had no more work to do for Britain and that he'd gone to help another wizarding community. Other people were sure that he was a death eater and that he'd fled with the rest of the supporters of the fallen dark lord. As it turned out, they were both wrong. Everybody wanted to know what had become of him and as it turned out, Harry Potter was the last person that they could have asked for that information. Strangely enough, he was finally seen again just strolling around the streets of Diagon Alley on a sunny evening in mid June of that year, reported to have an 'absent minded' look on his face. He was Harry Potter, but not the Harry Potter that anybody knew.

It had taken the Burrow and its residents quite some time to adjust to the post war climate, but five years on the house had been restored to its previous jolly and friendly atmosphere. For the first weeks and months after the final battle there had been too much to deal with, Harry's disappearance and the search operation for him. Funerals seemed to be coming up every other day and with them came the expectation that the boy who lived, twice, would turn up to pay his respects. He never did, even for the services which honoured Remus and Tonks, or Fred. Feeling confused, angry and betrayed, the Weasleys had eventually moved on with the name of Harry becoming an unofficial taboo. The Burrow still housed many people despite the fact that they were working now. George spent most of his time in the apartment in Diagon Alley but stayed at his family home on most weekends. Percy, Charlie and Bill still lived elsewhere but made visits whenever their schedules would allow them, knowing that their mother needed their company. But Ginny still lived there for half of the time, alternating periods of time between there and her boyfriend's flat in London. She was a Quidditch player, working up the world rankings in the hope of playing for one of the main league teams within the next years. Her boyfriend was called Grigor, a big, muscled and handsome man who had been born in Bulgaria. He had an affectionate side, despite his intimidating exterior.

Ron and Hermione still lived there with the witch spending weekends at the house where she'd grown up with her parents. She was now an important member of the ministry, head of a department set up by Kingsley to make sure that muggle borns were integrated into society without prejudice or discrimination. Ron was in career limbo, with dreams to be the head of the sports department at the ministry or a Quidditch commentator. On the other hand, he felt that he should become a more widely respected auror. As a result of his indecision, he had not yet followed any of these career paths.

In was a fairly normal mid June evening when the peace of the Burrow was interrupted. As usual, Arthur came home as Molly was starting to prepare dinner. But this time, he had news which was not about a new muggle contraption which he'd discovered.

He stepped out of the fireplace, green flames dying around him. "He's been sighted at last!"

Molly turned to look at him. "Who, darling?"

"Harry!" Arthur exclaimed, nervously and excitedly. "Kingsley saw him walking around Diagon Alley. Said that he looked miles away, totally absent minded."

"Are they sure that it's him?"

"Kinglsey's sure, he's bringing him into the ministry as we speak. He said that we could come to see him."

Molly thought for a second, wondering what had brought the missing boy back into their lives? He'd been gone for five years and then he suddenly turns up in Diagon Alley? Molly thought that something was very odd.

"I'll come to see, but don't tell Ginny yet." Molly decided, "Ron and Hermione can come as well."

"Why not Ginny?"

"It took her a couple of years to settle down and move on from Harry. Now she's found Grigor and she seems happy but Harry returning could ruin that." Molly lowered her voice. "I mean, she was obviously besotted with him."

Arthur considered this for a few moments before agreeing. "Fine."

"RON! HERMIONE!" Molly bellowed up the several flights of stairs. "WE'VE GOT TO GO OUT!"

The two of them suddenly appeared beside her with simultaneous cracks of apparation. Normally, eldest Weasley woman would have given them a quick telling off for not using their legs, but considering the urgency of the situation she was willing to leave it this time.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked.

"To the ministry. You'll understand when we arrive."

Neither Ron nor Hermione were used to such mystery from the woman and they shared a glance with each other. Molly noticed this and replied apologetically.

"I'm sorry about all of this mystery but I promise you'll understand when we arrive. Kingsley's set up a floo connection to his office, so get in the fireplace and we'll be there in no time."

The four of them made their way over to the old fireplace and took a handful of the floo powder each. Ron chivalrously ushered his girlfriend into the ashes first.

"See you in a minute," he smiled at her.

Hermione smiled back as she threw down the powder. "Kingsley's Office, the Ministry of Magic."

The brilliant witch materialised instants later in the unfamiliar fireplace of Kinglsey's office. She stepped out with a few coughs, her throat irritated by the ash and dust that had flown up as she'd appeared. Kingsley obviously didn't clean his fireplace out very often.

"Ah, Miss Granger." Kinglsey turned around from where he stood hunched over a chair. "I take it that Arthur and Molly have briefed you on the situation?"

Ron suddenly appeared behind them and he stepped over to his girlfriend's side. "Why are we here, Kingsley?"

"So you haven't been told," the minister for magic realised, "We've been blessed with the arrival of an old friend."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, simultaneously wondering if the person in that chair was who they thought, who they wished that it was. Excitement, nervousness, inquisitiveness and a number of other emotions coursed through their bodies.

"Who?"

"I can see by the looks on your faces that you have guessed already." Kinglsey couldn't help but smile at their facial expressions of wonder. "But the situation is not as positive as you may think."

Midway through his sentence, Arthur had appeared and come to stand beside his son and his son's girlfriend.

"Arthur." Kingsley shook his friend's hand. "There's been a change of plans. We need to get him to St. Mungo's."

"Why?" Hermione asked, her look changing to one of fear. "Is Harry hurt?"

"Worse." Kingsley said dramatically. "Pain is temporary. Now I'm not really qualified to say, but if my feeling is correct then I would say that young Potter here has been subjected to countless cruciatus curses. We'll probably find more evidence of torture if we examine him further."

It was Molly's turn to appear in the office, a look of horror similar to Hermione's developing over her face as she caught the final sentence.

Ron's eyebrows went down as he tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. "So what did you mean that he's in a worse situation than pain? All you've mentioned is pain."

"The cruciatus curse puts the victim under excruciating pain, but that is not its only use. When used enough, it can send the target insane." Kingsley told the young ginger.

Hermione's hand shot to her mouth in shock. "Harry's gone insane?"

"Maybe not quite." Kingsley said reassuringly. "The healers at St. Mungo's will need to confirm this but I think that he hasn't quite reached that point. His memory, however, has not fared well. He won't be able to remember anyone or anything."

Ron snorted in disbelief. "I think Harry will remember his best mate! We barely spent two weeks apart in our Hogwarts years."

Kingsley looked at him pityingly, and unable to dash Ron's hopes he changed the subject slightly. "I think that we should move him as soon as possible."

As Kingsley and the Weasley parents discussed the best ways to move Harry, Ron and Hermione crept round them to have a look at him in the chair. He sat there peacefully, his eyes closed and his lips upturned into a little smile. His hair was even less tame than usual, grease and dirt in between his hairs.

"Harry?" Ron whispered hopefully, "It's me, mate. Ron."

Hermione continued her evaluation when there was no reply, brushing Harry's long fringe off his forehead. "Ron. His scar, it's gone."

Where his forehead had used to show a lightning bolt scar there was now a circle of newer skin than on the rest of the forehead.

"Blimey," Ron winced, "Looks like somebody's cut it off!"

Hermione nodded her agreement, wondering what else they would find should they remove his shirt.

"Okay," Kingsley said loudly, "It is decided. I will perform apparate to St. Mungo's with Harry. You should all follow on. I'll be going to the private section or else we might get some unwelcome visitors from the press."

There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the rest of the people in the room so Kingsley strode over to the unconscious boy who lived and firmly gripped his arm.

"I'll see you shortly." With a crack, the two of them disapparated.

"Never been in the private section before!" Arthur tried to lighten the mood. "Should be exciting."

"Harry wouldn't approve," Hermione couldn't help but say. "He hates feeling that he's getting preferential treatment over other people."

"Can we go now?" Ron asked impatiently. "What if he's woken up?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Thirty seconds after he's arrived?"

"It's possible!"

"You two go ahead." Arthur suggested, "I'd like to think for a second."

With another uneasy glance at each other, Ron and Hermione also disapparated from Kinglsey's office.

"What's the matter, dear?" Molly asked her husband once the younger adults had left.

"It's a bit silly."

"Go on."

"Well, Harry's saved the lives of so many people in our family. Mine, Ginny's, probably Ron and Hermione's on numerous occasions. And George told me a while ago that it was Harry who'd given him the twins the money to start their business in the first place. As a family, we owe a lot to him. What if we can't save him now, when he's in trouble?"

Molly had no answer to his question, the situation hardly having sunk in yet but she pulled her husband of decades in for a reassuring hug. This wasn't the first hardship that they'd had to endure and it was unlikely to be the last.

The first private ward of St. Mungo's hospital was supposed to make staying in a hospital bearable, even enjoyable for the patient. It was basically the opposite to a normal hospital ward, a comfy bed, lavish decoration and things which could actually keep the person who was staying there occupied. Such rooms were usually reserved for people deemed more important than normal wizards, high ranking ministry officials or aurors who had fallen in the field. Though Ron and Hermione had always disapproved of this notion, they were grateful for the privacy now as they sat beside the unconscious war hero's bed. Already he was being swarmed with the best healers from every department. The boy who lived had to stay alive because he was a symbol of victory. His loss could weaken the ministry and kick start a new war. Though the healers were mostly using the complex terminology of their profession, Ron and Hermione could occasionally make out a piece of news.

"Major organs are all functional and reasonably healthy," a specialist said. Ron gave Hermione a hopeful look.

"What d'ya think, 'Mione?" Ron whispered to his girlfriend. "You think he's gonna be okay?"

Hermione didn't answer immediately, pondering over how to be tactful here. "That depends on what you mean by okay. I think that he'll live, he'll live fairly healthily but I'd be willing to guess that his mind will never be the same."

Ron's expression betrayed that he'd been hoping for a more positive diagnosis. "Like Neville's parents?"

"Exactly," Hermione replied grimly. She remembered what she'd thought when she'd seen them back when they'd been there in their fifth year. The entire family had agreed that it was a fate worse than death.

"Tell me how you've come to your conclusion."

"Fine. So, we can assume that Harry was captured, right? Either that or he performed the cruciatus curse several times on himself."

"Sure."

"That means that they could've killed him, if they'd wanted him to die. But they've let him free instead, which means that they obviously didn't want him to die."

"What if he escaped?"

"There's no wand on him, escape would've been near impossible. Also, he was wandering around Diagon Alley. If I were the most famous wizard on the planet and had been captured for five years, that's the last place I'd go. He'd have known that he'd be swarmed with people. And obviously there's the significance behind the date today. It would be a bit of a coincidence if he'd escaped on the anniversary of Voldemort's downfall."

"Blimey, yeah. I hadn't even realised that five years ago today we beat him. So tell me this, why didn't they kill him? Why did they let him free."

"Obviously I can only guess, but I think that they're trying to send a message. They've sent Harry Potter insane, meaning that the figurehead of resistance and fighting against evil will be, well, a blithering idiot. It's a far stronger message than just killing him, it's kind of like making him a fallen idol. Better for destroying hope."

Suddenlt they heard the deep, booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt behind them. "Spot on, Miss Granger."

The two young adults jumped in their seats, turning round to look at the minister of magic.

"Merlin, Kingsley! You could've bloody warned us that you were there!" Ron said indignantly.

Kingsley laughed a little despite the most serious of events that were unfolding around them. "I wanted to hear what Miss Granger had to say. I think she's right, but don't give up hope yet. Harry was very stubborn, very hard to crack. He might've managed to protect his mind."

"When why do you refer to him in the past tense?" Hermione asked suspiciously, suspecting that he could just be trying to raise their spirits.

Kingsley sighed. "I suppose I haven't quite got used to him being alive. For the last few years I'd assumed that he was dead, I mean he had so many enemies."

The three of them reflected on what he'd just said before one of the healers interrupted their thoughts.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have a diagnosis ready if you'd like?"

Kingsley nodded for him to go on, honestly not expecting to hear any good news.

"His body is still perfectly healthy apart from some nasty scarring. They aren't normal scars, they're magically created with the purpose of not healing easily. However, we think daily doses of dittany and other healing potions for a month or two could help. He's also very thin and his muscle has wasted away to a very unhealthy extent in many places. He'll need to be fed regularly and healthily with a good balanced diet. Also, I'd recommend exercises to built up the muscle again."

In typical Hermione fashion, the hugely intelligent witch was making notes in scrawly handwriting, trying desperately to get everything down. It reminded Ron of how she'd been in some of their Hogwarts lessons, convinced that if she didn't get everything down then she'd fail all of her exams.

"Moving on to his mental state, even less positive. Extensive use of the cruciatus curse has driven a lot out. I think that he'll struggle with basic social rules, similar to a child. However, with time these will develop. We accessed his mind and he has very few memories, his mind is almost completely blank. It's hard to tell with memories, he could never get them back or they could eventually begin to return. It's unlikely that he'll ever be able to recall much of his life."

"What if we show him his life again?" Hermione suggested quickly. "Using a pensieve, we could show him memories from people who had known him."

The head healer looked around at his colleagues, impressed by the witch's quick thinking and also a little embarrassed that she had come up with a possible solution when they hadn't.

"That could work." he said reluctantly, "But it could confuse him. He'll be looking at himself live from a totally different perspective."

"But we can try it?" Hermione asked.

"By all means, but only once he is strong again." The healer advised. "I have other patients to tend to so I will make this brief, there is one more thing that you must know. Mr. Potter has lost a lot of memories, which means that he will have forgotten how to perform even basic spells."

"You mean-?" Hermione began.

Ron cut across his girlfriend. "Harry won't be able to do magic?"

The head doctor shook his head pityingly. "No. Mr. Potter will not be able to do magic."

**This was just an idea that came to my whilst I was lying in bed, I don't read a lot of fanfiction so I imagine that it's already been used before. Oh well. If you liked it, please leave a review. They are really important to me, especially on the first chapter because I need to know whether to continue. Be honest, I can manage negative comments. **

**Before I sign off, I'd just like to ask you guys if any of you would like to help me in this project. I've done some writing before and I always like to do it with a big team around me. Last time I did a story (on a different website by the way) I had loads of support. I had a grammar and spelling beta reader, people who read through and changed the plot if they thought that it could be improved and also I had guys who were planning the chapters to come for me. I really appreciate help from outside, it really improves the end result and I always give credit to the team in the author's notes at the end of the story. So, if you'd be interested in being part of the team for this project then tell me in a review or a PM. I'd prefer it if you've had prior experiences with writing, but even if you haven't there should be a space on the team.**

**Thanks a bunch.**


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry finally awoke, a couple of days after he had been taken into St. Mungo's, there was nobody by his side to welcome him back. It was the middle of the day, after all. Hermione was at work, channeling all of her worries and frustration into creating a scheme that would prevent muggle-borns from being discriminated against in the wizarding world. Already, she had found that an employer was far more likely to employ a pure blood than a muggle born in many cases. In her position of head of D.I.M.B.I.S (Department of Integration of Muggle Borns Into Society) she felt that the task resolving this issue was on her shoulders. Her boyfriend, Ron, was watching Ginny practice Quidditch and wanting nothing more than to be away from the hospital that held only bad memories. However, despite the discomfort that St. Mungo's caused him, Ron would've liked to be there at that moment: Harry Potter - his best friend for life - had woken up.

The first feelings that Harry felt as he awoke were stinging pains all over his chest and back. His head felt light and his arms and legs weak. Slowly, Harry began to register his surroundings. The bed that he was laying on was comfortable. A distant luxury for the famous wizard after spending half a decade of sleeping on jagged concrete. Harry didn't recognize the room that he was in but was impressed by its furnishings and decoration. What struck him most though was how little he could remember about…well, anything. He didn't know how he'd gotten to this place. He had a vague recollection of five years of torture, but couldn't recall what any of his tormentors looked like. Beyond that, Harry didn't remember anything. It was if that was entire life. The only thing that he could remember was walking around Diagon Alley. The golden hue of the sky at sunset in Diagon Alley was the only appealing memory he had.

"Ah, Mr Potter." Harry, startled that a man had entered the room, shook himself from his brooding concentration. "You've woken up."

Harry tensed and instinctively drew the blanket up to his chest. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" he asked tentatively.

The healer replied in a soothing voice. "I'm here to help you Mr. Potter. I'm a healer. I can see you're hesitant to trust me, but you have nothing to fear Mr. Potter."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"It's your name. You are Harry James Potter. Loss of memory is also a side effect of traumatic experiences."

"It is?" Harry asked, confused. The name meant nothing to him; he was sure that he'd recall his own name. Yet, he couldn't.

"I promise that I am telling the truth." The middle aged man replied calmly. "By the way, my name is Head Healer Egan. I've been looking after you since you arrived here."

Harry unleashed a torrent of questions, just a few of the many that were swarming his head. "When did I arrive here? Why am I here? When can I leave? Where-"

"All of your questions will be answered, but now I must leave for a short while. There are many people who will want to know that you have woken Mr. Potter."

Before Harry could ask more questions, the healer left the ward. He didn't know what to think about what he'd just heard. The head healer had sounded trustworthy, had an honest face, and seemed to understand what Harry was going through. Yet the young wizard somehow couldn't allow himself to trust Egan, not after what he'd been through. What if the man who'd introduced himself as a 'head healer' was just one of them? Just another person trying to extracting information from him.

Harry got out of bed, but felt his knees give way underneath him at the first pressure that he put on them. He steadied himself, knowing that he had to escape before Egan came back with more people to torture him. What was it that he'd said, that _there were many people who would be interested to hear that he'd woken up_? Harry couldn't think of anybody; he had no friends, family or acquaintances to his memory. He did, however, remember that he had enemies. After all, the people who had kept him in a damp cellar for so long had hardly been friends. He slowly made his way to the window, knowing that there would probably be more of them outside guarding the door. Attempting to force it open, he realised that it was locked. He was a prisoner once more.

Leaving his sister's practice session abruptly without telling her why was not something Ron had ever done. Nevertheless, Ron apparated into the lobby of St Mungo's. Quickly shaking away the slight dizziness which he always felt after the process, he noticed Hermione talking to Kingsley across the room.

"Hey 'Mione." He said, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the lips. "Kingsley."

Kingsley nodded at him gravely. "I was just talking to Miss Granger here about what we can expect when we go to see Harry. The Head Healer has informed me that he is ready to see for a short while, which is why I called you over. But you must realize that Harry will be suffering from paranoia and memory loss, among other things, so trust will be scarce. We hope that by seeing you two, Harry's memory might be sparked."

"Why isn't Ginny here, then?" Ron asked, lowering his eyebrows inquisitively. "There were pretty...close."

Kingsley sighed. "Your parents - well, your mother doesn't want her to see him yet because she feels that Harry might get in the way of her relationship with the man she's with at the moment. To her mind, Harry abandoned Ginny."

Hermione and Ron shared indignant splutters. "That's ridiculous! He was captured and tortured!"

Kingsley nodded, obviously agreeing with them. "I have tried to tell her that, but I would remind you that we don't know yet how long Harry was captured for. He could well have abandoned her and been caught later, we just don't know."

"I don't know why she values Grigor so much anyway." Hermione grumbled as Kingsley led them up to the private wards. "However nice and handsome he is, we all know that he'd have real trouble with even spelling 'IQ'."

"Gotta find a way out, gotta find a way out." Harry repeated to himself, searching his ward for some way to escape. "They're gonna torture you again."

He looked up the chimney, wondering if it would be possible to climb up to freedom. _Anything is better than being starved again,_he thought to himself. Suddenly, he heard the door open on the other side of the room and he quickly climbed out of the fireplace.

"What are you doing, Mr Potter?" Egan, the head healer touted. Harry noticed that he seemed to share an '_I told you so_' look with the people behind him.

Harry raised his fists, entering a defensive pose. "What the hell do you want?"

"Nobody here is going to harm you, Mr Potter." Egan replied soothingly, as if he understood Harry's fear. "It's just me and three of your friends from before your … incident."

Harry raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "Friends? I have friends?"

Egan nodded, gesturing for the people behind him to enter the room. "This is Kingsley Shacklebolt, he's the Minister for Magic. And these are your two best friends from school. Ron Weasl-"

The head healer could not finish his sentence for as soon as Harry saw the pretty brunette girl and the bulky ginger enter the room, memories of his torture flooded his head and he couldn't help but scream.

"Get out! Get out!" Egan shouted to the three visitors, his calm composure finally slipping. Harry slipped to the floor, the nightmares resurfacing, and he clutched his head. The pain was nothing less than excruciating, as if he were being tortured again. The last thing that Harry saw before he collapsed was the head healer gesticulating wildly with his hands, calling for assistance.

_Harry lay broken on the floor, so weak that his captors had not even bothered to tie him up. He'd been in the same cellar for longer than he could recall. His sense of time had completely disappeared and he knew that he could've been in captivity for any amount of time between a month to half a year. Systematic torture from the cruciatus curse had addled his mind as he began to feel his memories fade. His strongest memories were of the times that he'd spent with his closest friends: Ron, Hermione and Ginny. But he saw them every day. They were his captors._

Harry reeled from the nightmare, a memory of one of the days he spent in that awful cellar. His eyelids fluttered before forcing themselves open, only to be greeted by a commotion around him.

"What happened?" Harry asked, his voice weak. He was back in his bed, healers around him as they checked that he hadn't hurt himself in any way.

"You collapsed on the floor when you saw some people enter the room." Egan explained softly and understandingly. "You screamed as soon as you saw them, fell down and have been unconscious for about an hour."

"You need to arrest those people, healer." Harry said, deciding that he trusted the kind man who was looking after him enough to talk to him. "I may not remember much, but I do remember them – they hurt me. And I remember for sure that the ginger and the brown haired girl were two of the ones who did things to me when I was there. I think that there was another woman, a redheaded one."

The healer looked at him for a second, seeing nothing other than certainty in the young adult's expression. He gestured for the other healers to leave, waiting until it was only him and the boy who lived in the room before he continued. "I can see that you are sure about this, but I think you are mistaken. Those were-"

Fiery anger welled up inside Harry, compelling him to interrupt the healer. "I'm not lying! It was them!"

The head healer continued patiently, seemingly unabashed by Harry's outburst. "This is going to sound strange to you, I'm sure, because you have forgotten that this is possible. But there are ways that a person can make himself look like someone else. Potions which make the drinker identical to somebody else. One of your captors would only have needed one hair each from the real people who you describe and then they would look the same as them."

"I don't understand."

"No, you won't for a while yet. But I'm afraid I must leave you now, I will question your friends about what you have told me. You have nothing to fear."

Harry nodded, allowing the head healer to take his leave. Alone again, the nightmare from before continued.

"_I'll ask you one more time." Hermione said, her voice harsh and threatening. "Where did you leave the stone?"_

"_I can't remember!" Harry pleaded with his captors. "I really can't! I'm can barely remember anything from before you captured me!"_

_Hermione and Ron looked at each other. "Maybe this will make you less forgetful."_

"_No! Please d-"_

"_Crucio!" Both Hermione and Ron shouted at the same time, their wands pointed as one._

_Harry screamed out as pain enveloped him for the third time that session. Pain like little needles pricked up over every square milimeter of his skin as his organs burned from within. He writhed in agony, expecting his head to explode into a million pieces._

"_I can't remember!" He screamed, begging for the pain to stop._

_The ginger and the brunette lowered their wands as the former spoke out. "A few more days without food should provide the incentive you need to tell us. And if you can't tell us after that then Ginny will be forced to join in on the fun. You wouldn't want that would you?"_

_With that, the two captors present stormed out of the cellar, leaving Harry in the painful aftermath of the unforgivable curse._

"He thinks it was us?" Ron asked the head healer incredulously. "That's ridiculous. He's crazy!"

Hermione broke her silence to rebuke her boyfriend. "That's inappropriate, Ronald. Remember his condition."

"Well, it's obvious that the captors used a Polyjuice potion or charm to alter their appearance." Egan explained. "You can hardly blame him for not realizing this considering the state of his mind."

"I suppose that you'll want us to find out how an enemy might've took our hairs, Mr. Egan?" Hermione suggested politely.

"Call me Francis, please." The friendly man replied. "And yes, that would be most helpful. We need to prove that it wasn't you two torturing him. We don't want any suspicions towards you two."

The couple nodded in agreement. They were about to part ways before Hermione suddenly raised one more question. "Mr. Egan - sorry, Francis - I'd just like to know one thing: how is Harry not totally insane after such an ordeal? You're telling me that he had multiple times…daily, for five years. But I went to the library and found that most people crack after a few days under such conditions. I find it remarkable that, if Harry was tortured as much as you say he was, he is still alive, let alone in a state of some sanity. It's unbelievable really…"

Francis nodded in agreement, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yes, I suppose you're correct. Most people would have no remnants of their mind left, but I think Mr. Potter has a very, very resilient mind. Perhaps the strongest I've seen. He's very stubborn and seems proficient at guarding it. A long while ago, there was a similar case with two young aurors, a couple, called Frank and Alice Longbottom. I thought that they were very strong, but even they broke eventually. They're still in this hospital to this day."

With Ron impatiently tapping his foot beside her, Hermione decided to cut off the most interesting conversation she'd had in a long while to appease her boyfriend.

"Well thank you Francis." She said, shaking his hand. "We'll wait until you give your permission for us to return."

"We'll do our best to persuade him that you two are not his captors." Francis replied, "Hopefully it won't be long before you can return."

And with that, Egan returned to the room of his patient and the two remaining sane members of the 'Golden Trio' made their way back to the Burrow.

"Francis?" Ron asked his girlfriend, eyebrows raised. "If my eyes didn't deceive me, you two were basically flirting."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know that intellectual conversation isn't something that you're used to, but I must admit that I thought even you would be able to differentiate between that and flirting."

With the hope that a new day would lead to improvement for the most famous wizard in the world, the couple apparated from the lobby of St. Mungo's into the safe, calm, peaceful environment of the Burrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Harry Potter I used to know**

**Chapter 3**

**Before I begin, I'd just like to sincerely apologise for the wait between this chapter and the prior one, I was on holiday in Madrid. It's a bit of a lousy excuse really seeing as I brought my laptop with me but still, this one was a difficult one to write. Also, there's a substantial publications process in which I give the chapter to a couple of beta readers who can advise me on everything from plot to grammar and sentence structure. It is very helpful to have a few unbiased opinions. If you'd like to join this publications team, please feel free to tell me in a PM or a review and I'll get you started right away. As ever, thanks for reading and an extra big thanks to those of you who reviewed, followed and/or favourited that last chapter. Lovely to hear from you. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

_**Set a couple of days after chapter 3**_

It was a wet evening in London. The rain kept up a perpetual patter on the great pillars of Buckingham Palace and on the red buses full of people trying to dash home. In the streets, people whistled for taxis with umbrellas over their heads as they climbed in. Trafalgar Square, normally bustling and busy, was a huge open space in the downpour.

On the other side of the city, Tobias Kamke was sheltered by an ugly motorway bridge. This bridge was not a pretty Parisian one but a long piece of concrete created simply for the purpose of having cars driven over it. Cynically christened by residents nearby as 'the rainbow', the block was actually viewed with serious apprehension. Strange things had happened there, things that very few people were brave enough to stick their noses into.

When Voldemort had fallen in the Battle of Hogwarts five years ago, his surviving followers had cut and run. They'd fled abroad to the countries who had always been sympathetic to Voldemort's cause in the hope of avoiding the British Ministry's aurors for the rest of their lives. Kamke had been the exception, staying devoted to his lord even after the fall. He was sure that the Dark Lord would return as he had before, and this time he would be the one instrumental in that great rise. Then, he would be promoted to the top ranks of the Dark Army. He feared nobody, knowing that luck and fortune had been on his side ever since childhood, when he'd been the lone surviving refugee on his ship from Bulgaria.

"Hey!" Tobias' attention was diverted to a muggle who'd got out of his car. "Are you all right down there?"

When Tobias didn't reply, the friendly muggle came closer to ask him again. "Did you hear me? Do you need a lift?"

Tobias turned to face the inquisitive man, and that was when the man who'd been trying to help realised that he'd made a grave mistake. What he'd thought was a raincoat was now clearly visible as a dark, sinister cloak which covered most of the mysterious man's body. On his face was a silver mask. The muggle turned away, trying to run back to his car but he felt himself being dragged back towards the cloaked figure.

He screamed in panic and fear. "What the hell is this?"

He had every right to be confused. After all, he could see that there was no hand or rope dragging him backwards. He was being controlled by an invisible force. Not knowing what to do, he continued asking questions.

"Who are you?"

Finally, the muggle heard the mysterious man speak. "I'm the man who is going to wipe every single one of you scum off the face of the earth."

He had a deep, metallic and emotionless voice.

"Look, sir. I was just trying to help!" The muggle pleaded for his life.

"And I'm going to reward you for it." Kamke replied with an unfriendly grin. "You're going to start the revolution."

'_I always knew that this place was fucked up.'_ The man thought. As it turned out, they were his last thoughts before the snake green light hit him square in the chest and he collapsed to the floor, his life force gone.

He was the lone death eater, and he wasn't afraid of anything.

The last few days had been exceptionally boring for Harry Potter. He'd been forbidden from leaving his ward and 'encouraged' to stay in in his bed. Somehow, he had rapidly grown tired of his lavish and well furnished lodgings. He didn't like feeling rich and he certainly didn't like feeling that he was in a better ward than everybody else in the hospital for 'brave deeds' that he couldn't even remember. Only Francis had been sympathetic to this, laughing as he told Harry about the other people who were staying in the private wards. In his own words,

_Men who've made a fortune by sitting on their backsides in a bank, and women whose looks are kept precariously alive by beauty charms and the resources of the nearest beautician._

Francis would then put his finger on his lips and grinning, make some comment about how he shouldn't insult his patients. The company of the sprightly middle aged healer was good for Harry but much to his sadness, Francis Egan had many other patients to deal with.

The next morning, Harry took a vigorous shower, first as hot as he could bear it, then freezing cold, letting the icy needles pierce his skin. He stood naked in front of the mirror and looked into his face, with a distaste he made no attempt to soften.

"Who are you?" he said out loud. "Why don't you remember anything?"

With the last word he sent a shampoo bottle flying, swatting out in anger at whatever was unfortunate enough to be in his wake.

His torso bore a network of scars, small and large, which traced the history of his violent life. There was the ever so slight displacement of his spine, the skin graft on the back of his left hand. Every square inch of his body seemed to tell a story, a story that Harry himself couldn't remember. He couldn't even remember where most of his injuries came from, just knowing vaguely that most of them had come from the time period in torture. Some of them, however, looked far too old for that. Harry was delighted to work out that he must've done a lot of fighting before he lost his memory. He wasn't delighted at the violence, just at the small fact that he knew something about the large chunk of his life that was still mostly a mystery to him. Francis had told him that his scarring didn't matter, that it was what was in his head that counted. "You've been through a lot, Harry. Much more than any human being should. The worst thing is that you're the only one who doesn't know it."

He put on clean underwear, some jeans and a t-shirt. None of it was his, but at least it fitted and it didn't stink. Pleased that he'd managed to look on the bright side, Harry went back to his room for his morning treatment with Francis. Naturally, he was soon in a bad mood again.

"I'm telling you, Egan." Harry grumbled as the healer examined him. "The bastards should be locked up. They kept me in that cellar for..." He tried to remember how long he'd been there. "A long time."

Francis, one of the most sought out healers in the world, merely nodded to appease the young man. "We'll talk about that later. Right now, we just need to make sure that you're fully healed. We need to keep on feeding you, treating your wounds and trying to make you feel safe."

Munching on an apple, Harry continued to complain as Francis dabbed a liquid called '_Essence of Dittany' _on the more major gashes down his chest. "Well I'm sure that you know what you're doing, but don't trust them. How long is it going to be before I can escape from this damned place?"

Francis raised his eyebrows in amusement. "By '_this damned place' _do you mean the nicest room in the hospital?"

"Doesn't feel like the nicest room in the hospital to me. I never feel safe, every moment I'm sure that the ginger or the brunette is going to burst through the door or the window or come down the chimney."

"With all due respect, that's hardly the room's fault."

"Why am I in the hospital's nicest rooms anyway?" Harry asked, obviously confused. "Aren't these rooms supposed to be reserved for important people."

Francis stopped servicing the wounds for a second to look up at the raven haired boy. "You're much more important than you know. Your name is know throughout the world because of the bravery that you showed."

Harry looked at him blankly, sure that he'd be able to remember if he was a famous figure.

Francis sighed at himself, annoyed that he'd got carried away. "Obviously you wouldn't remember that."

Seemingly resigned to the fact that his memory was gone, Harry dropped the subject. "You never answered my previous question, y'know."

It was Francis' turn to have a blank look on his face so Harry reminded him.

"When will I be able to leave?"

Francis looked thoughtful. "Well, under normal circumstances you'd be able to go within the next few days. Obviously this would be providing that you agreed to take the medicine correctly, that you'd return here for check ups every few days and that you'd agree to have psychiatric help. Your wounds themselves are not too serious. Dittany a few times a day should have them healed in no time. It's your mind that has been truly affected by the ordeal and in my opinion, you're lucky to be sane."

Harry nodded in agreement. "So, will I be able to go?"

Francis was shaking his head before the question had even been fully asked. "No. Your mind is in a very serious state. It feels to me like you're always scared and that you're on the very brink of insanity. You need to stay here so that we can be sure that you don't cross that line. And then there's the question of housing."

"What d'ya mean?"

"Well where would you stay?"

"You said that I have friends."

"Yes, that's true. However, your only true friends are the exact same people who you are accusing of torturing you. That's not the ideal kind of relationship for house mates."

Walking down a pretty muggle London street, Ginny didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Two words reverberated around her head repeatedly, lodged in her mind.

_Harry's back._

Hermione had told her the night before, apparently against the will of the entire Weasley family. So, as Ginny liked to do when she had a lot on her mind, she was taking a stroll. She supposed that some of her father's obsession had worn off on her as she admired the little shops that she passed. All of the shops had been made through hard work from the muggles, not through a simple flick of a wand that witches and wizards had the privilege of being able to use. She observed the jolly environment of a muggle pub, where people were leisurely drinking with their friends, or talking animatedly about one of their various sports. A few women had brought their pet dogs and fed them morsels of pastry beneath the table. A dog was a bizarre choice of pet in Ginny's eyes, after all, could a dog carry a message to somebody hundreds of miles away? But the atmosphere attracted her nevertheless. She had to stop herself from going in and basking in the carefree place where everybody seemed to get along. Ginny's life was a good one and she knew it, but even the large sums of money that she was going to earn from Quidditch would not be able to buy her peace. Harry's return could. No, she corrected herself. Harry's return to sanity could, she thought.

That night, as everybody else drifted into a peaceful sleep, Harry was twisting and turning under the duvet of his own bed. He had got to the point where sleep was something to dread, something to fear, and on some nights he had even attempted to keep himself up all night just to avoid the agonising dreams that always befell on him. That night was no different.

_It was just him and the red haired girl in the room. The others had called her Ginny, to Harry she was nothing short of the devil itself. The cruellest of all of his captors._

"_Are you ready to talk now?" She asked with a sneer._

_Harry coughed unpleasantly. "Please … water."_

_His voice was a low rasp and it hurt to talk. As promised, his three captors had virtually starved him in the last few days. Feeding him barely two slices of old bread and a glass of pipe water per day, Harry was beginning to feel his willpower crack. He knew that his stomach had shrunk significantly during the course of his captivity, but not enough that the meagre portions of food and drink that he was being given were enough to keep him satisfied. _

_Ginny looked at him with an expression that made him feel like he was the worst scum on earth. "Look at you, begging at my feet. Answer my question! Crucio!"_

_Since he'd been captured, he'd discovered that Ginny could cast the most painful cruciatus curses and this time was no different from the countless other times that he'd been subjected to the excruciating pain. It racked through him like the most powerful electric shock possible, frying his insides. Harry was relieved when she ceased after only thirty seconds._

"_Where is the stone?" She asked, sounding as if this was his last chance. "And if you don't tell me now then I promise that you will stay on the same diet for the rest of your life."_

"_I can't remember!" He pleaded, "You've got to believe me."_

_Ginny glared at him, her eyes fireballs, before whistling loudly. Quickly, Ron and Hermione had entered the room as well. _

"_He needs some extra encouragement." She explained. This had obviously been planned as the three of them arranged themselves around him._

"_Sectumsempra!" A black cloud puffed out of Hermione's wand as Harry began to feel cuts open up all over his body, as if somebody was there just cutting into him repeatedly. Blood spurted from his wounds, soaking his shirt and the floor around him._

"_Lacero!" It was Ron's turn to cast a spell, and he performed a cutting curse which opened up a single but long and deep wound right down the middle of Harry's chest._

_Finally, Ginny cast the cruciatus curse. Harry was in more pain than he'd ever felt before, pain on a number of layers. He stung, he ached,he starved and he felt dizzy, light headed as too much blood escaped his body. Finally, he couldn't hold on any more and he felt his will power finally fail him after what felt like years of ceaseless pain._

"_It's in the Forbidden Forest, I dropped it with all of the other stones near the entrance." The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. The curses stopped and Harry lay back against the wall, ashamed that he had failed yet relieved that maybe this would be an end to the torture._

"_Sort out his wounds." Ginny ordered. It was obvious who was in charge there. _

_The red headed woman left the room, one step closer to her ambition of bringing about the second return of the Dark Lord._

Harry woke with start, immediately realising that for once he had remembered what he had dreamed. He also realised that it was potentially important. There was a female junior healer in the room, silently taking out some of his dirty clothes.

She noticed that he was awake. "Are you okay, Mr Potter?"

He didn't ask how she knew his name, he didn't answer her question. He knew what he needed to do. "Get Egan."


End file.
